Byron.    

	Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
	Ere one can say “it lightens.”

Shakespeare.    

	The earth is rocking, the skies are riven—
	Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion,
	Is breaking the crystal urns of heaven.

Robert Buchanan.    

	For the poplars showed
	The white of their leaves, the amber grain
	Shrunk in the wind—and the lightning now
	Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain.

T. B. Aldrich.    

	Stretches, for leagues and leagues, the Wire,
	A hidden path for a Child of Fire—
	Over its silent spaces sent,
	Swifter than Ariel ever went,
	From continent to continent.

Wm. Henry Burleigh.    

	Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
	Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
	That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
	And ere a man hath power to say “Behold!”
	The jaws of darkness do devour it up.

Shakespeare.    

Nathaniel Hawthorne.